Wild Birds
by TickleTheToast
Summary: Kuki cannot shake the feeling that she knows things (people) that she really doesn't. A journey of re-self-discovery. [post-decomm, primarily 3x4]
1. The End

**AN: **This is a post-decommissioning story. Do not be deceived. It will not be what you expect.

Not a sequel to '29 Tries' (as in it does not have to have been read for this story to make sense) but can be read as an alternate epilogue. That is, the first 29 chapters of 29 Tries is tentatively considered past canon for this story.

A lot of you have been waiting for this! Unfortunately, there will be more of that. I can't say how often I will be able to update this story because it is nowhere near finished, so… I also don't know how long it will be but WE WILL GET THERE I PROMISE JUST HANG IN THERE FRIENDS

**Disclaimer: **KND is my forbidden fruit. I see, I am tempted, I can wax philosophic about it, but I cannot receive the sweet taste on my tongue without righteous retribution. Therefore, it can never be mine, and I will continue to admire it from afar on my lonely, much-abused keyboard.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 1: The End**

* * *

_"Try this – close  
your eyes.  
No, wait, when – if – we see each other  
again the first thing we should do is close our eyes – no,  
first we should tie our hands to something  
solid – bedpost, doorknob – otherwise they (wild birds)  
might startle us  
awake. Are we forgetting something?"_

_– Nick Flynn "forgetting something"_

* * *

Kuki wakes up with the carpet on her face.

Well, no – that's not quite right, is it?

Kuki wakes up with her face on the carpet.

That's better. The thing with words is, as wonderful as they are to communicate, they are equally as prevalent in breeding misunderstanding.

Remember that. It's important.

Kuki picks herself up gingerly and rubs at her burnt cheek, regarding her bed as if it had decided to throw her out of it voluntarily. The pillow stands out like a flag of surrender against the mangled blankets.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

The morning is grey and bulging with thick clouds that look as if they're slowly devouring the tops of the trees that flank the road to school. Kuki stops on the sidewalk to peer upwards at the sky and notices a dinky little treehouse she's never really seen before. It looks about a hundred years old, and there are streaks of faded paint on the side facing the street.

Kuki goes on her way and forgets.

AP Chemistry. Art. Economics. Lunch: cornbread and beans. French III. Study Hall: French quiz next week, look over the vocabulary. Anatomy. Pre-Calculus.

The walk home feels longer than normal. Kuki works on her homework until dinnertime, then she takes a shower, watches some TV, and crawls into bed. She's asleep almost immediately.

…

Eight hours later, the alarm clock goes off and Kuki peels herself from the floor.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

Kuki's shadow is pale and the dull weather follows her all the way to school, and then all the way back.

…

Kuki reaches up from the floor to turn off the blaring alarm.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

It always looks like it's about to rain, but it never does. Kuki supposes the clouds are being merciful - that treehouse the next street over would probably get so heavy and swollen with water that it would collapse on itself. It looks like it's falling apart already – obviously no one has cared for it in a long time.

…

Kuki never hits the snooze button and sits up on the floor at precisely 7am each morning.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast…

"Headaches again, Kuki? No more caffeine before bed!"

…Backpack.

The clouds look like they're moving today. Kuki's shadow is moving, too.

The guy next to her in Pre-Cal snores.

…

Kuki has taken to keeping her alarm clock on the rug for easier access.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast…

"The weather is awful," Kuki's mom comments on her way out the door. "Take an umbrella."

…Backpack. Umbrella.

It doesn't rain.

…

Kuki mistakes the alarm for something else in a dream. She wakes up reaching for something that isn't there.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

The treehouse is looming and dark, but others on the sidewalk just clutch their dry umbrellas and stare at their shoes as if they can't even see it. Kuki rubs at her temple and pretends she's like everyone else.

…

It takes Kuki three tries to turn the alarm off and she tosses the clock under her bed in frusration. She's too old for Rainbow Monkeys, anyway.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

Why would someone paint numbers on a treehouse? It doesn't make anything less grey.

…

The alarm doesn't go off the next morning. Kuki wakes up on the floor to the sound of the garbage truck.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Backpack.

She flashes out the door and across the empty driveway, giving up on the tangled knot of her hair.

The clouds are bulging and blot the sky with deep greys and blacks. It almost feels like nighttime.

Kuki sprints down the sidewalk, past the dilapidated, unloved treehouse, around the corner on Pleasant Union Avenue and into something that isn't supposed to be there. Pain shoots through Kuki's face. Her eyes snap shut with the force of it, closing up on the image of a person in a hood.

There is a grunt, the sound of someone falling, and a crack of thunder.

"Watch it, you cruddy-!"

Kuki's eyes snap back open.

The clouds burst, roar, and pour it all down.

* * *

**AN: **Let me know your thoughts about this mother! Before anyone asks, Kuki is a senior in high school at this point, so about 4-5 years have passed since her decommissioning. Old, I know. Reason why it's rated T; things will be coarser and more adult-y. Nothing too bad, no taxes or anything.

For questions about updates/progress/errors/etc, the most efficient way for me to see your question is to send me an ask via askthetoast on tumblr. I can't trick the doc format into letting me put a link here anymore, so the link is on my profile. It will be our information hub for this and future fics!


	2. A Moment or Two

**AN: **Chapter two! Glad everyone was on board with this. No plot yet but we're getting there.

**Disclaimer:** KND has never been mine and never will be but wait a minute

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 2: A Moment or Two**

* * *

There is a boy sitting on the sidewalk in a brown sweatshirt.

Wait—maybe it's orange. Red? It's hard to concentrate when he keeps moving around.

Oh, maybe that's her.

Kuki blinks a few times and his colors settle.

Gold and orange and blue and black. No grey at all.

He looks up and frowns. She frowns back.

The boy pulls himself up from the ground, cursing, and looks her over again as he pulls up his hood.

Right; it's raining, finally - heavy, slow drops that slide into her hair, down her chin, and into the neck of her sweater. Kuki shivers.

"Oi, you okay?" he asks in an accent Kuki can't place.

"What?"

The boy, his face scrunched up with some emotion between confusion and disgust, gestures to his nose and pulls his brow forward in alarm.

Kuki lifts a hand to her own nose; it comes back bloody.

"Oh," she says. "Guess not." It actually really hurts, now that she's paying attention.

The _newness _of this morning is a bit distracting.

The boy sighs loudly, his sneakers scuffing the sidewalk as he steps toward her. "Are you high or something? Here." He hands her a rumpled tee shirt from his backpack. Kuki hesitates, wiping blood and rain from her mouth with her sleeve.

His sigh is closer to a scoff now. "It's _clean, _I swear, just—" He presses it against her face until Kuki takes it in her own hands. It smells like cheap detergent and clean boy.

"Okay then, Kuki?" he repeats.

Kuki meets his gaze. He's shorter than her, she realizes, but he knows her name so they must be in the same grade. She nods and thanks him.

He sighs again – this boy is constant _noise, _she isn't used to it—and slides his backpack back on. "I don't have an umbrella, sorry, but—you were going to school, right?"

Kuki nods.

Another sigh. "Fine, okay." He turns around to walk in the direction he came from, and Kuki has no choice but to follow.

She walks with the shirt held to her aching nose. The morning, so unlike others she's had, thunders with sound: the splish-splash of their feet and the pap-pap-pap of the rain. Under the cheap detergent and clean boy she smells wet concrete and the electricity gathering in the air. She's prepared for the sudden crash and snap of thunder and lightning as it shakes the sky, but the boy beside her jumps a mile.

"Jesus," he mutters, stuffing his hands in his pockets and glancing sideways at her. Kuki thinks he's the kind of person who reacts to things, who needs conversation and feedback in a way she's unaccustomed to.

"I've never been late to school before," she ventures, lifting the shirt from her mouth briefly to talk. The boy glances at her again.

"Yeah, well, you're going to be even later if you've got a broken nose," he replies. Kuki decides that reminding him it would be his fault if she does would be rude.

The boy rubs his forehead. "Think you fractured my cruddy skull."

Kuki bristles and lifts the shirt again. Screw rudeness. "_You _ran into _me._"

The boy turns his head around to glare at her. "You were the weirdo doing the running! I was _walking _and minding my own business!"

"So you're saying it's_ my_ fault?"

"It cruddy sure isn't mine!" He whips his head back around and straightens his hood against the pounding rain, body language screaming 'end of conversation'.

Kuki smiles behind the shirt.

Thunder cracks again in the sky, and the rain pulses down harder. Bullets, fat and heavy, pour from the clouds. The boy curses under his breath and speeds up his pace, Kuki automatically following.

"Come on, slowpoke!" the boy calls.

Steaming, Kuki quickens into a jog and overtakes him in a few strides of her long legs.

A noise of complaint squeaks over the rumble of the storm, and Kuki hears the boy's sneakers begin to pound harder against the sidewalk.

A burst of thrill sparks at the back of Kuki's neck. She breaks into a run.

"What the—you—!" He struggles to match her pace.

His shouted protests and muffled curses turn into laughter before long, and Kuki finds herself brushing away the cobwebs in her throat to giggle loudly as they race each other through the rain, splashing in all the puddles they find.

The school looms ahead and they sprint for the front doors, fighting for that last fifty feet. They slam into the wall beneath the overhang, laughing breathlessly.

"I totally won," the boy pants.

"No way!" Kuki protests, bent over with her hands on her knees. "I was ahead of you the whole time!" She straightens, grinning, and is startled.

For a moment, for just a fraction of a second, Kuki is thrown by the sight of the boy grinning at her from where he leans against the bricks. He looks…not _wrong, _exactly, but…_off_. His jaw is too square; his shoulders are too wide.

For a moment, she had expected to see someone much more… or less…

Someone _younger._

Which is a strange thought to have at seventeen.

Kuki is suddenly aware of her aching nose again, the bloody shirt still clenched in her fist, and the rainwater that was soaked into her bra.

"Oh, um, here," she stumbles, holding out the sopping shirt.

"Woah, hey, I don't want that!"

"It's _your _shirt!"

"It's got _your _blood all over it! People are gonna think I murdered somebody!"

Kuki pushes forward to shove the shirt to his chest. "Just take it, you wuss!"

He lets out a disgusted noise, bringing his hands up to shove the material away. Instead, his hands encounter Kuki's, and the shirt is thrust into the limbo between them.

Their eyes meet for a moment.

Then a moment more.

Then another moment; or maybe it's all just one long, tense moment because how long is a single moment supposed to last, anyway?

Rain is dripping off his eyelashes. His eyes are green. Neither of them are quick to let go of the shirt they hold between them.

It's one long, very long, somehow very _significant _moment.

Then the bell rings.

They jolt apart and drop the shirt to the ground between them with a wet plop.

"Whoops, uh," the boy stoops to pick it up, fumbling for a moment with wringing it out. As eager as his eyes seemed before, they don't meet Kuki's now. His face is red. "We should…um…get to… uh, the thing…"

Kuki fumbles for the door behind her. "Uh, class?"

"Yeah, that one."

Kuki opens the door and they both blunder through, awkwardly bumping shoulders and making fleeting eye contact. At the intersecting hall, Kuki makes to go straight while the boy turns left.

"Uh, bye, I guess," he waves gawkily.

"Bye."

Kuki sets off down the hall. Everything blares out in high contrast. She can almost see the rut in the floor where she normally walks monotonously from class to class, in and out at the same pace, every day.

She crosses over that rut now and thinks she might start coming in from a different door every day. Just to shake things up.

Kuki has another thought, out of nowhere, just before she reaches AP Chem five minutes late.

_Wallabee Beatles._

* * *

**AN: **Chapter 3 isn't finished yet, but I should have it by next Saturday. Please review!

Tickle that toast.


	3. The Rain Just Keeps On Coming

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 3: The Rain Just Keeps On Coming**

* * *

There's a girl whose name Kuki knows is Abigail Lincoln, but they're not exactly friends. They have Econ together and Abby, who is probably set to be valedictorian this year, has a ridiculous skill with flash cards that has saved Kuki's GPA three times over. They're not friends because they've never really talked outside of class, but when Kuki walks into third period that morning, hair and sweater still damp and nose black with a bruise, Abby's expression is one of deep concern.

"Kuki, what happened to you? Get mugged?" Abby stands to loom over Kuki's desk as she sits down, arms crossed as if she was going to personally hunt down whoever was to blame.

"No, I woke up late and got caught in the storm. No big deal!" Kuki responded cheerfully.

Abby raises an eyebrow. "And the raccoon face you've got goin?"

"Oh, I, uh, bumped into someone. It's okay."

"Who?"

Kuki hunkers down under Abby's intense scrutiny. _Wally_, she thinks, but that's far too familiar. She shouldn't even know his name. "That-that short kid in the orange hoodie?"

A funny look crosses Abby's face. Her posture relaxes. "Wally Beatles?" she asks, laughter in her voice.

Hearing it out loud, knowing for sure, sends a little tingle up Kuki's spine. Or maybe that's the headache. She would have to stop by the nurse for ibuprofen again.

"He keeps trying out for the basketball team but he can't even sink a free-throw," Abby chuckles in her husky voice. Abby is the coach's assistant for the boys basketball team. "It's gettin' harder and harder to turn him down."

Kuki giggles. She can see that.

Class starts and Abby returns to her seat, but not before sending Kuki a wink with a sparkle in her eye.

Weird.

She walks with Abby to lunch after class, which is normal, but what isn't normal is that Abby offers her a seat at her table. Which is, you know; different.

Kuki hesitates. Abby is nice, but she and Kuki walk in completely different circles. Abby is _cool. _Kuki is…typical.

Kuki glances toward the table that houses her usual friends, deliberating. Fanny's voice alone is enough to antagonize her headache even without Lizzie's chiming in. Virginia would ask too many questions about her nose. She can already tell Eve and the Doblemitz twins are in the middle of some debate. Looking at them now, it's hard to believe they're her friends.

Kuki blinks, the thought coming into her head out of nowhere. That's not fair; they're her _best friends._

Abby calls her name. "Kuki! You comin' or what?"

Kuki turns, gripping her lunch tray tightly. Abby is nodding toward the other end of the cafeteria, one eyebrow raised.

Kuki nods and smiles, which makes Abby grin as if she's actually glad for the company.

She sits down next to Abby at a table filled with people she recognizes. She knows them, but she doesn't _know _them.

"Alright, Kuki, these are my friends, Chad, Jason, Phil, and Rachel." Chad and Jason Kuki recognizes from the football team, and Phil and Rachel are on the student council. She waves at them, aiming for friendliness and getting a bland but very interested response from all four. Rachel smiles very largely at her.

"And this is my girlfriend, Heinie," Abby continues, draping her arm around the table's last occupant.

'Heinie', a delicately pretty girl with white-blonde braids and a red scarf, shoves at Abby in mock anger. "My _name _is Henrietta von Marzipan," she says in a heavy German accent, directing the words more at Abby than Kuki.

"Whatever, Heinie," Abby coos.

"Hi," Kuki replies. Henrietta doesn't spare her more than a glance, which is something Kuki wishes she could say about the others.

Now Kuki is a very friendly person. She loves people, and they typically love her. She's not usually shy or self-conscious around new friends.

But she's pretty sure they're all staring at her. She's getting that tingle up her spine when someone has their eyes on you, but every time she looks up everyone is turned away, toward their lunch or each other. Like they aren't allowed to even speak to her.

Ears burning, Kuki concentrates on her grilled cheese.

"Your name is Kuki, correct?"

Kuki looks up. For being the one to initiate the conversation, Henrietta doesn't look thrilled to talk to her.

"Kuki Sanban," she says, dredging up a smile.

Henrietta nods absentmindedly, jumping and glaring at her girlfriend when she subtly elbows her in the side. Abby gives her an encouraging look, and Henrietta turns back to Kuki with a sigh.

"You have Econ with Abby; I'm sure that must be an awful chore."

Kuki smiles, relaxes. "She's actually a huge help. I don't know what I'd do without her."

Henrietta makes a noise as if she agrees, then narrows her eyes. "You aren't going to be stealing her from me, are you?"

Kuki laughs outright. "The only way I could steal her is if I had an endless supply of candy."

Henrietta absolutely _howls. _Abby, grinning, pretends to hide behind her hat.

Abby likes candy. A lot. Kuki probably learned that somewhere, but she can't think of where at the moment.

She's pretty sure she just passed some kind of test.

"Do you though?" Henrietta continues, giggling. "Because she would have to fight me for you."

Though the rest of the table continues to exist in their own bubble of isolation, conversation comes easier after that. Henrietta is a bit intense, but is nice enough with Abby as a buffer. Lunch goes quickly and the couple smiles at Kuki when they separate for their next class.

As she walks away, Kuki hears Henrietta whisper, "Does she-?" and Abby interrupt with "No."

The words don't mean anything to Kuki, but she walks faster all the same.

* * *

As weird as lunchtime was, Pre-Cal is even stranger.

The kid who sits beside her and snores is Wally. But of course he is. Kuki remembers seeing him before today, when she thinks about it. He just never stuck in her mind until today.

It helps that Wally seems equally surprised to see her.

Kuki sinks down into her seat, smiling bashfully. "Hi."

"Hi," Wally replies, wearing an equally awkward grin. "How's the….um?" He gestures to his nose.

"Fine. It stopped hurting a while ago. Not broken."

"Oh. Good."

After a silence in which Wally fiddles with his pencil and Kuki keeps one hand on the strap of her backpack, Kuki leans down to bring out her notebook and rearrange a few of the papers stuck in there, just to busy her hands until class starts. She is hyperaware of Wally's presence next to her, and wonders why she never really noticed him until they literally collided together on the sidewalk.

Seriously; how cliché is that?

But now that she has noticed him, Kuki begins to _notice _him.

He's kinda cute.

He's got nice hands.

She also notices him noticing her, which she isn't sure what to do about.

He doesn't fall asleep today, but he does race out of the classroom as soon as the bell rings, negating any ideas Kuki had about maybe possibly walking in the general direction of home with him.

Well, fine, she thinks. Who needs him.

* * *

"We didn't see you at lunch today," Virginia notes, appearing suddenly on the other side of Kuki's locker. "What's up with that? And oh my god, your nose! Was someone picking on you? Did you eat alone in the bathroom?"

Kuki laughs, but there is an edge of nervousness to it. What does she have to be nervous about? It's not a crime to sit at a different table for one lunch period. "What? No! My nose was an accident. And I sat with Abby Lincoln today."

Virginia straightens, brow furrowing behind thick bangs. "What? Why?" She looks incredibly insulted, which Kuki thinks is a little more Eve's style of dramatics, but in that moment the girl who has been Kuki's best friend since third grade is looking at her like she's a stranger.

Maybe that's why Kuki lies.

"She…she was helping me with some Econ homework. It was no big deal."

Virginia breathes out an overdramatic sigh of relief. "Whoo! That's good. I thought you'd gone to the dark side." She grins and slaps Kuki on the back. "You belong with weirdos like us."

Something in Kuki protests violently at that, her locker door slamming shut harder than she meant. She isn't sure if she's insulted at being called a weirdo or at the idea that Abby is somehow _not _a weirdo. Which she clearly is. Or maybe it's the confirmation that a friend like that is outside her reach.

Kuki isn't sure what to make of her reaction, so she bites her tongue.

Virginia goes off down B Hall to go to her Chemistry club, leaving Kuki staring at the pouring rain through the front doors. It had been so fun this morning. Now it's just bumming her out.

Heaving a sigh, Kuki is bracing herself and reaching for the pushbar when a gentle poke on her arm stops her. She turns.

Abby's friend from lunch – Rachel? – is standing behind her with a wide smile. A purple umbrella sits in her hand, the tip hovering next to Kuki's bicep.

"Um…hi?" Kuki ventures, tries to smile. She is a friendly person. She is.

Rachel, however, remains quiet beneath her enigmatic smile and wriggles the umbrella pointedly.

Hesitating, because the silent act was getting really _weird_, Kuki takes the umbrella. The moment its weight rests in her hand, Rachel turns heel and walks off.

"Thank you!" Kuki calls after her.

Rachel glances back, a softer smile on her face, before she disappears down the hall.

Stepping out of an alcove behind her is Phil, who pauses before he follows his friend out of sight. His sunglasses were too dark to see his eyes, but Kuki swears he had been looking right at her.

Today has officially been weird.

Kuki shivers, opens the umbrella, and steps out into the storm.

* * *

**AN: **Bland blah chapter. I was going to have a thing happen but I think the thing would be better later so. The plot will begin to roll in the next one, I promise. (P.S. All the folks mentioned are canon KND characters; those who didn't have real names I gave some: Eve=Numbuh 12, Jason=Numbuh 100, Phil=Numbuh Infinity)


	4. Now Which One Was Real Again?

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 4: Now Which One Was Real Again?**

* * *

The treehouse is beautiful. It stands tall and still and proud and the paint is clear and bright.

It's safe.

It's home.

Abby's there too, and she's coaxing Kuki in. It's not necessary; she _wants _to go inside. Why would she need to be coaxed?

There's someone working at a bench, gnawing at a chili dog while machinery whirs and snarls around him.

Abby is tugging gently at her hand.

Someone else is sitting at a giant computer, shaking a fist at the blurry face on the screen.

_Sunglasses,_ Kuki thinks for some reason.

Abby is wearing a red hat now. When did that happen? It looks good on her.

The hat expands, pulsing, filling her vision.

Red is everywhere, accompanied by the blaring sound of an alarm.

_It's time to go_, Kuki thinks excitedly. _It's time to go!_

She runs, happy, enthusiastic, elated. She has a purpose.

_It's time to go._

_It's time to go._

_It's time to go!_

_"Battlestations!"_

Kuki slams her hand down on the alarm clock.

She's on the floor again, sweating, heart slamming against her ribcage, back aching from the uncomfortable position.

It's time to go to school.

* * *

Kuki begins to think that Abby's friendliness from yesterday was a dream when she is greeted by only a stone-faced nod of recognition when she enters class that morning.

Though Kuki tries to catch her eye several times, Abby's attention remains focused on the lesson and her gaze does not drift over to her kind-of-sort-of-friend. Kuki tries not to feel hurt when Abby is the first person out of the classroom when the bell rings.

Kuki thinks is safe to say she is not invited to lunch.

She returns to her own table, a soggy PB&J, and the low chatter of her friends. Right; her _friends. _She'd been rude to them yesterday. This is where she belongs.

The rest of the day sinks into a fog of note-taking and hall-walking. Just as it was.

Pre-Cal, however, is a vastly different story.

The moment she enters the door, Wally's eyes seek her out. An awkward little grin quirks upwards on his face.

Kuki takes a deep breath and lets the fog drift away, making way for vibrant colors and sharpened vision. Smiles. Waves back. Sits down.

"Hi, Wally."

"Hey, Ku- uh, Kuki." He falters for a moment, face twitching briefly into something like confusion.

Kuki realizes he'd never actually introduced himself. But he knows her name; it isn't so weird for her to know his, right?

The little smile trying not to rise on Wally's face suggests it's really not.

Class starts. Conversation ceases, but Kuki finds herself stealing glances at the boy next to her all the same.

She's had crushes before. Freshman year it had been a guy named Ace who she went on exactly one date with before she realized he was better suited to a harem than a relationship. There had been others here and there, both short-lived and far-fetched, but the point of the matter is that Kuki knows what infatuation feels like.

This…isn't quite that.

Kuki's not really sure what to call the safe, familiar glow in her gut when she glances over and finds Wally's gaze drifting toward her. Their eyes dart away quickly, but they're smiling as they work through their math problems.

It doesn't feel romantic, exactly. It just really feels like everything in her is telling Kuki to get to know this weirdo who chased her through the rain.

Kuki's okay with that. She's a friendly person.

And he's cute for a shortie.

Once again, she glances toward Wally, who is hunched over his notebook, scribbling out vertical asymptotes for the formulas on the board.

With one glance Kuki can tell his answers are all wrong. He'd written things like 'x=4' and Kuki feels strangely disappointed. She wonders if he's even trying.

"That's wrong," she whispers, eyes front.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him pause to glance at her, then scribble out whatever answer he was writing down.

"Then what's the answer?" he whispers back.

"Figure it out."

"I can't."

"Try."

Kuki glances over at the same time Wally does. This time neither of them looks away.

The prickle of familiarity runs up Kuki's spine again, making her shiver.

This time, she sees the same reaction mirrored in Wally.

The bell rings.

As Kuki fumbles to collect her things, shaken by whatever unidentifiable situation she's been caught in, Wally tears the erroneous page out of his notebook and throws it at the trash can. It bounces off the rim and onto the floor.

Kuki pauses. "Why'd you do that?"

He shrugs, stuffing the notebook into his backpack and zipping it up. "They were all wrong anyway."

"Yeah, but now you'll never learn," Kuki replies heatedly.

Wally scoffs, swinging his bag onto his back. "Not in this class that's for sure. Mr. Figg is a boring A-hole."

Kuki frowns. "You need to get a tutor, then, or else you'll never pass and you won't get to graduate with the rest of us."

Wally pauses, letting Kuki hitch her bag onto her shoulder in silence before he slowly shifts over to stand closer, one hip perched against her desk. Kuki looks up.

"Well, uh, maybe you could teach me," he says with a grin.

A flirtatious grin. With a dimple.

Is he flirting?

He's flirting.

Kuki panics.

Wally seems to reconsider his words after a few seconds of flustered silence, reddening and shifting backwards out of her space. "Um. Nevermind. I mean you get like B's and stuff so I thought… But uh, I'll get that dork Gabe to help me I guess. He's better at math than you are, so…"

Some resentful feeling deep in Kuki lashes out at that. "What? Now I'm not smart enough?"

Wally's face blanks, then washes over with confusion and mild panic. "Huh? No! That's not what I said!"

"That's exactly what you said!"

"I-I don't think you're dumb, it's just—Gabe is smarter!"

Kuki emits an offended shriek.

"Better at math, I mean! But, uh, he's a total dork! I'd rather have you teach me!"

"Forget it!" Kuki makes to brush past him.

Wally follows her into the hallway. "Seriously! Come on, Kuki!"

Kuki marches straight ahead, fuming.

"C'mon, please? I want you to teach me! Don't be a doofus!"

Kuki spins around. "A _what_? You're the one who needs tutoring!"

"You offered!"

"No, you _asked_!"

"Exactly!"

"Fine, I will! Because _you're_ a doofus!"

"Fine!"

"Your house tomorrow?"

"Fine, see you then!"

"Fine!"

And that, it seems, was that.

Kuki wanders home wondering exactly what just happened, but unable to bring herself to regret it.

* * *

**AN:** UGH I'm sorry this chapter took forever to come out; it was giving me so much trouble for some reason. So much dialogue bleh. Idk how I'm even going to write the precal tutoring. The only reason I passed that class my senior year was because the teacher gave no shits and just kept giving me random extra credit for being hilarious. Don't ever let anyone tell you funny doesn't pay because I once got a free wedge of cheese at Cracker Barrel for making the waitress laugh.

Ask me about updates on my knd blog (link on my profile).

And don't forget to leave a scrumptious review!

Tickle that Toast


	5. The Odd Couple

**AN: **WARNING: MATH.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 5: The Odd Couple**

* * *

Kuki has been tutoring Wally for almost a week now, and in that time they've settled into a fairly comfortable friendship.

After school, Kuki follows him to Downing Street, which everyone usually calls 'Drowning Street' because of the water tower that straddles the neighborhood. Wally's house is the second from the left, a small house with a pool filled with sand in the back and a giant metal foot planted in the front.

Wally's mother usually gets home shortly after he and Kuki get settled at the kitchen table, seven-year-old Joey in tow. Mrs. Beatles is wonderfully talkative, especially about Wally, who sinks lower and lower in his seat with a redder and redder face the longer she keeps talking. Joey takes an immediate liking to Kuki and babbles out stories about the second grade while Wally tries to convince his mom to pour her energy into something else.

Wally's dad, who is surprisingly tall and surprisingly cheerful to have sired such a grumpy little son, is usually pulling in the driveway when it's time for Kuki to leave. He swings Joey through the air and ruffles Wally's hair until they're both laughing and bellows both hello and goodbye when Kuki steps off the front stoop.

The first day, Wally offered to walk her home, but Kuki declined. She isn't sure why.

When she gets home, her ears are ringing.

Mom is at work. Dad is in the office typing on a very quiet keyboard. Mushi has employed the use of very powerful headphones for her angry music.

It's quiet.

* * *

"So, see, it's an infinite discontinuity. You get a value for 'x' that has a zero as the denominator and that's how you know there's a vertical asymptote."

"Uh, what if I got zero over zero?"

"Um…" Kuki flips through her notes. "That means there's a hole in the graph."

"A hole? What does that mean?"

"I don't know, that's just what Mr. Fibb said. You write out the answer like this." She leans over him to demonstrate.

Wally snorts. "Worst tutor ever."

Kuki 'accidentally' lets the pencil slip and elbows him in the stomach.

Wally flops over onto an empty chair, chuckling breathlessly. "Oww, that's abuse!"

Kuki's eye is absolutely _not _drawn to the strip of hipbone that is exposed by his position. "Don't be a baby," she says, looking away to shuffle his notes.

They're sitting at the kitchen table, because that's where they always sit. Kuki hasn't been farther into Wally's house than the kitchen and the short square of hallway to the bathroom. She hasn't even seen his bedroom.

Not that that's something she wants to see.

Definitely not something that is plaguing her mind wondering if he's the type of guy that lets his socks fester mold beneath the bed or if everything goes into a hamper or what posters he has on the wall or whether he has a stereo or a TV and how many pillows he uses—

"Kuki?"

Kuki startles, her eyes jumping up from where they had glazed over staring at Wally's surprisingly neatly drawn graphs.

"Hm? What?"

"I asked about the thing with the ones that go the other way."

"Oh. Uh…" Kuki flips to the section of the notes about horizontal asymptotes. "What thing?"

"The ratio thing. If the denominator and numerator are the same."

Kuki knows that one, and anything about what kind of comforter Wally has drifts right out of her head. "Okay so for that you just take the leading coefficients. So for this one it would be 'y=2/5', because they're both connected to x2. Got it?"

"Uhh…"

"Here, try doing this one"

"Kay." Wally hunches over the problem intently, slowly working down the problem with a furrowed brow. "Is that right?" he asks after a few moments, sitting back.

Kuki looks it over and smiles. "Perfect!"

Wally outright _beams._ "Really?" He stares at the problem in his hand, looking both ecstatic and disbelieving. "Well, whaddaya know."

"I told you you could do it," Kuki points out smugly.

Wally scoffs, but he's smiling as he looks at her. "Guess you did."

Their eyes meet for a bit too long, the contact stretching taught before finally breaking as Wally clears his throat and looks down. "Uh, what about this next section?"

"Um," Kuki clears her throat as well as she looks over his shoulder. "If the degree of the denominator is greater, then it's just 'y=0'. Just work on the next few from the homework and let me know if you get stuck."

Wally nods absentmindedly and goes onto the next problem.

Kuki is confused.

She's never seen Wally actually try in class before she began tutoring him. Even Mr. Fibb noticed the difference. She had written off his poor performance as laziness, but he seems perfectly content to spend several hours on math alone when Kuki is there to help. Maybe there is more to be seen about him than Kuki had assumed.

"Why were you going the other way?" she asks suddenly.

"What?" Wally looks up from the problem he was working on.

"Last week when you bumped into me—"

"You mean when _you _bumped into _me_—"

"—you were going the opposite direction of school. Were you…y'know…skipping?"

Wally's eyes return to the homework sheet, almost abashedly. He shrugs. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? School sucks!" His pencil goes hard and angry on the page.

Kuki crosses her arms. "Bull. You love it when you actually get it."

Not lifting his gaze from his homework, Wally goes red and snaps, "Yeah, but this is the first time I've ever _gotten it_, okay?"

For the first time: silence.

Kuki is quiet. She fidgets in her seat, sorry that she'd pushed.

But Wally goes on, mumbling into the textbook, "You're the best teacher I ever had, really…"

Kuki's cheeks grow warm. "I thought I was the 'worst tutor ever'?"

Wally shrugs, glancing up with a grin. "Maybe not the worst _ever…_"

Kuki smiles. "Shut up and finish your work, dummy."

* * *

**AN: **I had to watch so many how-to math videos for this chapter. I regret everything. This chapter is as bland as the rest. On a good note, I have finally begun to hit my stride here, and already have the next few chapters planned out/halfway written. Things will (hopefully) get more interesting. So yay!

Next time: More familiar faces!

Leave me a delicious review~

Tickle that toast.


	6. Happy Days Are Here (Again)

**AN: **This was a difficult chapter to work with as far as order of events go! Eventually I decided it would be best to split the chapter up since it was longer than usual anyway. So the next chapter might be fairly short (?not sure?), but I will upload it probably within the next few days. The chapter after that is my favorite and will probs be up the week after!

**Disclaimer: **I have forgotten to do these lately. Doesn't mean KND is any more mine.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 6: Happy Days are Here (Again)**

* * *

The dreams are increasingly worse the next few nights. And increasingly vivid. Kuki takes to keeping ibuprofen by her bed for the blinding headaches she has when she wakes. She doesn't know what to do.

She keeps passing by that old treehouse, but when she's asleep it seems so much bigger. Someone is waving at her from the window. She's happy.

In the daytime everything is in muted colors; the treehouse is barely more than junk.

In the moments between sleep and wakefulness, she isn't sure which one is real.

* * *

Though Kuki has found a new friend in Wally, none of their friendship ever seems to be expressed outside of Pre-Cal and their shared afternoons. For the majority of the day it's like nothing has changed. Kuki walks to school alone, goes to her classes as usual, and eats lunch with her friends.

(Abby still seems to be ignoring her; Econ is getting difficult to follow but Kuki is hesitant to ask her for help again.)

Her day goes on and it's almost as if Wally Beatles is someone she dreamed up, someone who doesn't even exist.

However, when it's time for the last class of the day, it's like a switch is flipped in Kuki's brain. At the forefront of her mind is suddenly _Wally_, and their desks get progressively closer to each other every day and their whispered conversations become less and less math-related.

Wally talks about his little brother getting to skip first grade with a tone that lies somewhere between annoyance and gut-bursting pride and complains about how the basketball tryouts are 'rigged'. Kuki talks only briefly about Mushi, who is going through a fairly gothic rebellious phase that requires her to wear increasingly dark clothes and listen to increasingly angry music and sneak out the window at night to wander around because she actually has nothing to do in the middle of the night and she's too scared to go too far from home. It would be funny if it didn't make Kuki so sad.

Sometimes Wally will slip her notes with corny jokes or unflattering drawings of Mr. Fibb with 80s hair and bull horns. Kuki has to bite her fist to keep from laughing.

When Kuki passes him notes, she folds them into origami figures because she's discovered it's extremely entertaining watching Wally try to figure out how to unravel it.

And because it's sort of endearing that he's so careful not to rip it, and that he tries his best to fold it back into a crane with his response inside, even though it looks more like a flattened biplane.

Okay, maybe 'friendship' is the wrong word.

Well, it's the right word for now, but maybe Kuki is hoping it will be a more temporary label.

Maybe she likes him.

A bit.

He's cute when he's confused.

He's even cute when cowering in Mr. Fibb's shadow; it turns out that the teacher's droll voice doesn't have another setting even when faced with a very uncomplimentary drawing of himself.

* * *

Lunch the next day is one of those super-greasy grilled cheese sandwiches that are sealed up on the sides. As if Kuki's week couldn't get any worse.

As she makes her way over to her friends, Kuki feels eyes on her. She glances over just as Abby ducks her head, but Henrietta gives a little wave. Kuki is somehow afraid to wave back, and simply hunches her shoulders and walks faster, the humiliation of the previous week crashing down again.

Fanny is waving her down before Kuki even gets to the table.

"Hey, Kuki! You ready to see Bloodspillers III: Cardiac Revenge on Friday?"

Kuki wrinkles her nose. She doesn't even like scary movies, but somehow she always gets roped into whatever Fanny wants to do. She can't even count the number of times she's played laser tag with her. Admittedly, the consistent invitations are probably an attempt by Fanny to finally win a game. Kuki can't help if she has killer aim. "I can't. I've got detention."

Fanny, rather than being either disappointed or sympathetic, scowls and rolls her eyes. "Just great. Now I have to take Oliver." She sits back down, fuming. Kuki wonders when Fanny and Oliver's relationship turned back on again.

Kuki sits next to Virginia, who is laughing in her face. "Detention? You? What did you do, smile too much?"

Kuki makes an effort to laugh along with her. "I was, uh, caught passing notes in Pre-Cal."

"Whaaat?" It's Lizzie who speaks, pulling herself away from her boyfriend, who decided to sit with them today. "Who passes notes anymore? Why didn't you just text?"

Kuki is saved from answering 'because I don't have his number and it would probably be weird to ask because I'm just his tutor' when Virginia replies with a dismissive wave, "Leave her alone, it's cute."

Eve rolls her eyes over mashed potatoes. She always manages to get the really good lunches that are always gone by third lunch, somehow. "Who do you even know in your Pre-Cal class, anyway?"

"Uh… Wally Beatles."

No one has much of a reaction to the name except Eve, who practically chokes on her milk. "What?"

Kuki, confused, echos, "What?"

"_Wally Beatles?_ That pint-sized jerk with the bowl-cut?"

Something ugly stirs in Kuki's chest. "I guess?"

Eve's eyes go shifty, shooting briefly over to Lizzie's boyfriend and back to Kuki. "Listen to me right now: stay away from him."

"What? He's nice. Well, not _nice_ nice, but—"

"Just stay away from him Kuki. I don't want you hanging around with that guy."

Anger boils up in Kuki's throat. "_Excuse me?_"

"Trust me, you're better off sticking with us. That guy is bad news. Am I right?" she looks to Lizzie's baldheaded boyfriend, who looks surprised to be addressed.

He stutters, "Uh, I don't really-"

"Bad news," Eve repeats, turning back to her food. The movement is to casual not to be deliberate. She's nodding to herself, ending the conversation, assuming her own righteousness.

It occurs to Kuki that Eve is only nice when things are going her way.

It also occurs to Kuki that she doesn't actually like her very much.

"Shut up," Kuki fires back.

The table falls silent. Mashed potatoes hover uncertainly on Eve's fork.

Kuki takes this as encouragement to continue. "You don't know anything, okay? You don't. And you can't tell me what to do, you're not my mother! You're supposed to be my friend!"

"Am I?" Eve shoots back, abandoning her food. "Are we your friends, Kuki? First you ditch us for the student council snobs who—by the way—have completely dropped you if you didn't think we noticed, and now you're biting the bullet for some stupid guy with a Napoleon complex? Grow up. You never belonged with them and you never will again. They're trash."

Kuki rockets up from her seat. Her heart is pounding. Her face is aflame. Her hands, curled into tight fists, are shaking at her sides. She's not sure what she meant to do or say, but blind fury whites out everything but Eve's condescending smirk.

For a moment, Kuki sees. It's a mask. Panic clouds Eve's icy blue eyes.

She's afraid.

Virginia pulls Kuki back to her seat, attempting to defuse the situation by leaning into the space between Eve and Kuki. "C'mon, guys, calm down. It's not a big deal. No girl fights in the caf, okay?"

Kuki hears her words through a haze of white noise. Fury shakes her bones. Words boil up that are not said as everyone awkwardly returns to their lunches and previous conversations.

Kuki realizes every word is to defend Wally and Abby.

Not one spare thought is for Eve or Fanny or Virginia or Lizzie or Pete or Peter; her _friends._

Her friends?

The anger clears from Kuki's mind as if wiped away by an invisible hand.

Her friends.

Kuki deflates in her seat, stress tears burning in her eyes.

These are her friends.

A touch to her hand causes Kuki to blink in surprise, a tear falling down her cheek. She looks down at her hands, which are clenched tightly on the hem of her sweater beneath the table. A pale hand rests atop hers with a red sleeve attached.

Kuki glances up at the table's occupants. Lizzie's boyfriend is gazing gently at her, painfully sympathetic and quietly righteous behind dark glasses. The touch isn't suggestive or inappropriate. It's like the soothing presence of a lifelong friend or loyal big brother. It feels like he'd be hugging her if he could, and she would probably let him.

Swallowing her upset, Kuki thanks him with a grateful smile, which is returned with a tiny nod. His hand slips away.

_My friends._

* * *

Kuki wakes up at 3am, covered in sweat and panting from some unidentified nightmare that slips away the moment she sits up.

Her head throbs with pain.

All she can remember is empty, endless space through a tiny window. And something Eve said that day echoing through it all.

_"You never belonged with them and you never will again."_

Kuki lays awake for hours, the words spinning through her head.

_Again._

* * *

**AN: **Oliver=Numbuh 19th Century; I fashioned his name from the fact that 86 once called him an 'Oliver Twist reject'.

Next time: Self-doubt, self-isolation and some kid in a pilot's helmet (?)

Don't forget to drop a nutritious review on my plate! (the food puns are getting worse and worse)

Tickle that toast.


	7. An Infinite Discontinuity

**AN: **Okay, so this chapter is NOT short. It is more than twice as long as usual. At first I was gonna split it up again, but then I realized I would have to come up with another chapter title so I came to a conclusion of 'who the hell cares' and here we are. A LOT goes on in this chapter. Let me know if you guys prefer the longer ones (The other ones are super short, I know, but they're easier to get out on a weekly basis). I'm excited for the next chapter!

PLOT IS HAPPENING FINALLY PLEASE TELL ME IF IT IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE

**Disclaimer: **I got a new mouse but the payment was not applicable toward the rights for KND.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 7: An Infinite Discontinuity**

* * *

"You're kinda quiet today, Kuki. Somethin' got your pants in a knot?"

Though Kuki appreciates Wally's tactful attempt at avoiding the word 'panties,' she replies shortly, "I'm fine, keep working on problems 33 through 38."

It's the day after Eve went batshit and Kuki is swimming in a sea of doubt. Her friends are pretending the fight never happened and Kuki found herself following suit without even thinking about it. No use stirring up trouble, right? It's not a big deal.

It's not.

She just hasn't been feeling like herself lately.

Truth be told, though, she isn't exactly sure what 'herself' is supposed to feel like anymore.

"I'll take that as a yes," Wally mumbles as he hunches over the homework. "Is is because we got detention? Because it was so your fault."

"It was your stupid drawing," Kuki points out.

"Yeah, but you got caught with it, butterfingers," he replies with an air of fondness.

Kuki smiles, just a little. "It could've been worse. They used to read notes out loud when you got caught until everyone switched to texting."

"Yeah," Wally says thoughtfully.

Kuki panics, sure he is about to ask for her number.

Not that she doesn't want that.

Does she want that?

Is that weird?

Do friends ask for each other's cell phone numbers? Kuki can't remember. Her hands are sweating.

Kuki scrambles for another topic, grabbing the homework she'd been working on for inspiration. "Thirty-three through thirty-eight, come on Wally."

He groans theatrically as he slumps back over his work.

There is no doubt in her mind that the things Eve was saying yesterday aren't true.

Okay, maybe a little bit of doubt? She spent most of their tutoring session yesterday indecisive and half ignoring him. After all, she's only known him a few weeks. She's known Eve for years. Maybe…

Wally looks up and catches her eye. Kuki's train of thought screeches to a halt as he offers her a dimpled smile.

No. Eve is wrong. She has to be.

"What? Something on my face or am I that handsome?" Wally asks, the momentarily kind smile morphing into a more familiar smirk.

Kuki is saved from replying when the front door slams open and Wally's mother steps into view, Joey trailing behind with a smiling, dirty face.

Mrs. Beatles's eyes are on _fire._

"'Boys will be boys' my sweet arse! Fighting in the classroom! I don't know how I managed to raise such violent heathens!"

"I kicked their butts," Joey says proudly to his big brother.

"Attaboy," Wally replies, ruffling Joey's hair.

"Don't encourage him!," their mother shouts, slamming her purse down on the table with enough force to rattle Kuki's glass of water like something out of Jurassic Park. "I do not want my boys fighting, especially at school! Violence is never the answer, right Kuki?"

Kuki hesitates, surprised and a little intimidated by being brought into the family argument. "Uhh…" She should probably agree, tell Joey that fighting is bad and never solves anything and blah blah blah. Because that's what she thinks, right? Kuki Sanban never fights out her problems. She's a peaceful person.

"Well it depends," Kuki finds herself saying. "Were they bad guys, Joey?"

"Yeah!" Joey says assuredly. "They were trying to look up Marcie Millan's skirt!"

"Then you did good," Kuki tells him, reaching out for a high five despite herself.

Joey smacks her hand hard and runs off, giggling madly up the stairs.

"Joey Beatles, wipe that mud off your face!" Mrs. Beatles calls, running after her youngest child.

Kuki stares after them, odd tingles spreading from her spine to her fingers. She wants to run. She wants to run and jump and turn cartwheels and backflips. She squeezes her right hand and feels like it's missing something.

"Dang, Kooks," Wally laughs. "My mum is never letting you in the house again."

Kuki feels odd.

Very distinctly odd.

Like just really, really weird in a very specific way.

"Maybe I should go apologize," she says dazedly, gazing at her empty right hand.

"Nah," Wally replies, but Kuki hears it as if through a haze. "She loves you."

Her brain is buzzing.

It hurts.

"I gotta go to the bathroom." Kuki bolts abruptly from the room.

Her legs are shaking. She takes deep breaths as she enters the hall, leaning against the wooden-slat wall lined with photos.

The first is a wedding photo of two smiling blondes in their early twenties. They hold a two-year-old Wally between them.

The next is a hospital picture of a red-faced newborn with a fuzz of yellow hair. He's wearing a deep frown.

Kuki smiles. Her heart skips, slows, and she regains her footing as she moves along the wall.

After come a series of photos depicting Wally through about age ten, until another baby begins to show up.

Kuki is only halfway down the extensive wall of pictures when she comes to one taken in the backyard of the house. A ten or eleven-year-old Wally stands front and center, arms crossed over a bare chest, a scattering of friends in bathing suits posing around him.

There's a chubby kid in goggles who Kuki thinks might go to their school now, a bald kid with sunglasses being held tightly by a girl who looks a lot like Lizzie…

Kuki pauses; she moves closer.

The next girl is black with a long braid twirling out from under a red hat.

Kuki's breath speeds back up. Her head aches. Tremors get her supporting herself on the wall again.

The next girl is perhaps the least – and most – recognizable. Her grin is wide and carefree. Her arms are around Wally's stiff shoulders.

It's her.

Kuki's heart stops dead.

Then it slams straight up into her throat.

She chokes and stumbles back, crashing into the opposite wall.

That's _her. _Eleven-year-old Kuki, smiling and happy in a place she's never been to with people she's never even met.

Her head hurts.

Colors are swimming together.

Wally is there, suddenly, his words muffled by the roaring in Kuki's ears.

It's her.

He was there, too.

He _knows _her.

He never said anything. Not one word.

All this time and…

She had _friends._

Kuki wriggles away, muttering panicked excuses that she barely even registers.

Then she's out the door.

Then she runs.

Her head hurts.

* * *

It's raining, but of course it is.

Kuki runs down the sidewalk. She doesn't know where. Home?

Home.

No one will be there.

Though her mind is racing and her stomach is churning, Kuki's legs manage to get her to the right street before she knows what happened.

She's through the front door.

She's not alone.

Mushi calls out her name, half in concern. The other half is annoyance, but that's pretty much a requirement at thirteen.

Suddenly, Kuki can't remember when she even last spoke to her sister.

The photo flashes in her mind, and suddenly it's all too much.

Kuki bursts into tears.

"What? What did I do?!" Mushi stutters uneasily.

Kuki sits down on the floor, bawling like a child.

The house isn't empty.

* * *

With some awkward fumbling and only a little bit of muttered contempt, Mushi manages to bundle Kuki into bed with hot cocoa and a few magazines.

She'd left all her homework at Wally's.

Though Kuki tries to read, the words keep swimming in front of her eyes, replacing themselves with the smiles of the familiar strangers in the picture.

Kuki continues to wonder; is it real?

Why would Wally have that photo on the wall?

Why did he never _say _anything?

What does Abby know?

Her head hurts.

* * *

In the morning, Kuki is frenzied.

She feels like a crazy person, jittery and looking over her shoulder on the walk to school.

The treehouse looms.

Kuki stops to stare at it for far too long.

Abby does not meet her eyes when Kuki enters the classroom, but that has become the norm the past week or so.

Kuki stares at her.

She sits, hair unbrushed, one leg bouncing, and waits.

And stares.

Her head hurts.

The moment the bell rings, Kuki is up and practically chasing Abby out the door and down the hall.

When Kuki catches her arm and Abby spins around, for a moment she feels like all her questions are about to be answered. Abby will explain. It's all a joke. Her and her friends planted that picture because Kuki was stupid enough to think she was included. None of it is real. Abby will explain, and it will all be okay.

The question that comes to Kuki's lips first is, "Are we friends?"

Abby blinks. She opens her mouth.

"I mean _were _we?" Kuki quickly amends, reddening. "When we were kids? You and me and Wally?"

Abby's eyes widen and dart around anxiously. Her bicep flexes beneath Kuki's palm. "Uh, Kuki, I'm kind a hungry, can you-"

"Answer me, Abby, please!" Kuki begins to sound desperate, even to her own ears. "I found this photo, and-"

Abby's steely eyes lock onto her own, stopping Kuki's voice in its tracks. "What photo?"

"At Wally's house, on the wall, it...all of us and these kids I don't know but I do...or I did. Please, Abby, I feel like I'm going crazy! I _remember _things I…things that never happened! I keep getting these awful headaches like something's sawing my brain in half and I know you know _something_! Please, tell me! Tell me what the treehouse means! It's okay if you don't want to hang out anymore, just tell me I'm not crazy!"

Abby's eyes dart somewhere behind Kuki's shoulder, and for a moment the panic Kuki feels is reflected in her eyes.

"You're crazy." Abby says bluntly.

Deep down, Kuki feels something shatter.

"Let me go," Abby demands, shaking off Kuki's grip.

Kuki lets her go and Abby brushes past her without another word.

Shaky and stunned, Kuki turns to look after her and stops cold.

Standing with his back against the lockers is Abby's friend Phil. Even through his sunglasses, Kuki can feel him staring her down.

Then he smiles, and there is not a scarier thing he could have done.

Kuki flees, more scared and hurt and confused than ever.

* * *

Detention is served that day after Pre-Cal. Mr. Fibb sits morosely at his desk while Kuki and Wally grade homework from opposite sides of the room.

It's boring. And monotonous. But they aren't allowed to talk, which for today is good.

He'd returned the things she left at his house before class started and passed her a few concerned notes afterwards. She was barely more than cordial for the former and didn't reply to the latter.

Everything is too weird right now, and she doesn't know if she's more angry or hurt or confused.

Kuki steals furtive glances at Wally from beneath her hair.

Well, confused is probably at the top of the list.

He's so _familiar_.

"I am going to the restroom," a dull voice interrupts her thoughts. Mr. Fibb is standing and heading toward the door. "I will return in two minutes."

Kuki panics.

Mr. Fibb is barely out the door before Wally is out of his desk and sneaking over to crouch beside Kuki's. Her cheeks heat when he grins up at her, chin propped up on the desk table. "This sucks," he says cheerfully.

"Yeah," Kuki murmurs. She keeps hovering the tip of her pen over the paper as if she's reading the answers, but she's too aware of Wally's presence to take any of it in.

"Okay, what's your problem, Kuki?"

_"What's your problem, Num-?"_

Kuki blinks. Is there an echo? "Nothing. I just don't feel good, okay?"

Wally frowns. She can feel him beginning to form a question on his tongue, and quickly disarms him.

"Hey, what kind of name is Hoagie, anyway?" she asks suddenly, eyeing the name scribbled at the top of the page she's working on.

Wally shrugs. "Uh, it's a sandwich, Kuki."

"Well, I know that." Kuki squints at the name, suddenly sure she's seen that scrawl before. Hoagie P. Gilligan. No, it's definitely familiar. "Do you know him?"

Wally opens his mouth and then pauses, jaw hovering without forming words. His brow furrows and his eyes dart around the test paper in Kuki's hand. "Uh… no," he finally answers. "I've never met him."

"Neither have I."

Wally darts back to his seat as Mr. Fibb returns, the threads of the conversation left dangling. Relieved, Kuki returns to her work, but the careful loops of Hoagie P. Gilligan's homework continue to catch her eye from the bottom of the stack. She hasn't met him. She's sure of it. She's never even heard of him.

The sound of jet planes taking off pounds in Kuki's head. Helicopter blades. Whirring gears.

Her head hurts.

Hoagie P. Gilligan got a perfect score.

* * *

Kuki jolts awake at 3am. This time, it's not due to a nightmare.

There is a gentle tapping on her window.

Kuki stills, slowly rolling over to see something dark beyond the venire curtains. Like there is someone crouched at the windowsill.

Fear spikes in Kuki's chest and spreads through her limbs in a cold chill. Her fingers tighten on the blankets. She tucks in her chin. Her eyes remain focused, unblinking, on the figure knock-knocking on the glass.

She makes the decision not to move. She makes the decision to sit and wait for it to leave.

She gets up.

More silently than Kuki thought was possible of herself, she slips out of bed and tiptoes to her propped-open closet, where her mom keeps some of her college stuff. Kuki pulls out a lacrosse stick and brandishes it like a spear.

She moves slowly toward the window, and the dark figure who has stopped knocking.

As Kuki watches, heart pounding out a staccato rhythm and safely invisible in the shadows of her room, the shadow pulls something out of its clothes. It shines silver in the moonlight.

A knife.

Kuki twitches, fear washing through her and right back out again. Her tongue slams into the roof of her mouth to keep from crying out for help. Instead, she adjusts her grip on the crosse and widens her stance instinctively.

She knows what to do.

The knife slips into the break between the top and bottom of the window, expertly wriggling both locks free.

Kuki rocks back on her heels.

The window slides open.

Kuki tenses to spring.

The hooded figure comes into the room.

She knows what to do.

Kuki lunges out of the darkness.

The base of the stick slaps flatly into the intruder's hand. They let out a noise of surprise as the knife clatters to the floor.

Not missing a beat, Kuki adjusts her stance again and jabs out with the crosse.

The figure is clearly shocked at the ambush, but reacts, blocking the gut shot with an elbow to redirect the point.

Kuki rolls with the momentum of the crosse, swinging around the other end and aiming it for the figure's head.

The intruder drops down. It's too dark to see when Kuki's legs are swept out from under her.

Pain shoots up from Kuki's tailbone when she lands hard, lacrosse stick clattering across the floor, out of reach. A foot plants itself solidly on Kuki's chest, pushing her down with surprising strength.

Kuki grabs at the ankle, trying to twist it away, but the figure holds firm, keeping her down.

"Damn. You still got it," a voice says.

Kuki tenses. She knows that voice.

The figure reaches up and pulls down their hood, revealing a familiar silhouette.

"Kuki, we need to talk."

* * *

**AN: **Not actually sure what the real age difference is between Kuki and Mushi. Soo chapters should be getting longer now? Plot is happening!

Next time: Some fun Abby and Henrietta! Agh, I love 'em.


	8. Welcome To The Human Race

**AN: HELLA LONG CHAPTER YEA! **Um, warning for more adulty themes? It's not racy or anything, but it's clear in the text that Abby and Henrietta have a physical relationship. No sexytimes are in the chapter, obviously. But be prepared anyway. I dunno. They're so cute.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 8: Welcome to the Human Race**

* * *

Abby's phone rings in the middle of the night.

Blearily, she slaps her hand around on the bedside table until she fits the slim plastic in her palm and slaps it against the side of her head.

"'Lo?" she answers. The ringing goes on.

Oh, she thinks. It must be the _other_ phone.

Dropping her cell on the mattress, Abby dips her hands under her headboard and feels around for a moment. She feels a divot under her fingers and presses, and another mobile falls out into her hand. This one is far chunkier than the other, affixed with random bits of wire and a base made of splintery wood. She presses the answer button, fashioned from a bottle cap, and lifts the receiver to her ear.

"Numbah 5-T, reporting."

"Wow, that is kind of sexy," a familiar voice replies.

Abby laughs, the soldier-ready squaring of her shoulders slumping back down. "Heinie, how'd you get on this line?"

"C'mon, Candy Lips, go back to the other voice, that was really doing it for me."

"How did you get on this line, Heinie," Abby repeats, firmer, but still smiling into the dark of her room.

"You know me. I know things. I know people. I may have swiped it from Jason's gym bag. Will you be taking bets on how long it takes him to notice?"

Abby laughs again but says nothing, relaxing back into her pillows. When Henrietta wants to talk about something, she always pulls some kind of trick to make herself too lovable to be angry at. Abby waits for her to start.

"So, about your friend Kuki…"

Here it comes, Abby thinks, rolling her eyes.

"Was the other week a test? Bringing her to lunch?"

Abby sighs. "I don't know."

"Then what? Are you going to recruit her into your um… 'secret club'? The one I don't actually know about, of course."

"No, Heinie," Abby replies, a little sharper than she'd intended. "Kuki didn't make the cut. Abby's in, she's out. She's been wiped, end of story."

Henrietta pauses. "…Did you think she would remember? Seeing all of us?"

Abby rubs the bridge of her nose. It is way too late to be talking about this. "I don't know. She was saying some stuff she couldn't have known, and she ran into Wally; Abby… _I_ thought he might have triggered something—"

"Abby, you've been decommissioned before. You know how it works. There's nothing there to trigger. Again, not that I know anything about that."

"It was stupid and selfish. Infinity made it clear to stay away from her."

"Yes, extra clear now. Does he even go to class, or does he just lurk in corners and wait?"

Abby doesn't laugh. "I just…"

The voice on the other line softens, and Abby can almost feel Henrietta's sympathetic arms around her.

"You just missed your friend," she replies.

Abby's friend was a twelve-year-old girl with happy grins and a welcoming heart who loved silly cartoons with unashamed enthusiasm and could knock the brains out of a six foot adult with a laugh and a well-placed kick.

Kuki Sanban, the skinny girl in well-fit sweater tees who waits to be spoken to before she says a word and will quietly ponder a smile before it is given is not her.

But for a moment she _was. _Almost. Abby saw her.

But it's stupid to get her hopes caught up.

Abby sighs. "Guess I did. But she's gone."

Henrietta gives her a moment of sympathetic silence that Abby loves her for.

"So you gonna let me go to sleep now, babe?"

"Nope. Can't sleep. Come over."

"It's almost four in the morning."

"It's ten in the morning in Germany."

"Then you would still be asleep."

Henrietta huffs, and Abby's mood instantly brightens. "Tell me a story, then."

"Fine. So this one time a fly breached the perimeter in the treehouse…"

* * *

There is a blue pen and a red pen on Abby's desk. The Econ notes are projected at the front of the room. Her hand hovers over the pens and drops, hesitating.

Abby wishes she could say it's Infinity's orders keeping her away. In reality, she's ashamed. She'd tried to worm her way back into Kuki's life, back into her _head_, with no regards for her safety.

Infinity's angry words echo in her head.

_"Any decommissioned operative seen even in our near _vicinity _is in danger. You can't rope her into this when she doesn't know the severity of her situation! If her mind becomes aware of all the blank spots in her memory, it will _rebel. _It will _break. _Not only our you posing a danger to your ex-teammate, you put our entire organization in jeopardy! It's bad enough your girlfriend has thrust herself into the equation, but an ex-operative with Sanban's history paling around with you could blow our entire mission out of the water! Stay away from her, or you're visiting the chamber for real this time."_

Henrietta would say Phil is a drama queen. Which is true. But he's also insanely influential, far more so than Abby.

Her finger taps on the blue pen.

Kuki has been complaining about headaches. Maybe it's already started. Maybe Abby has already broken her. Maybe it would be better to crack it all at once.

The red pen rolls beneath her palm.

She feels sick. It's never been this hard to balance orders and emotions. There has always been right or wrong, and Abby has always been certain which was which and what she should do. People look to her to make decisions.

So should she use the _damn red or the blue_?

Kuki's eyes bore into her back.

* * *

Rachel and Chad form a united front between Abby and Infinity, silent but unwavering while they sip nonchalantly at their milk. Infinity – because he's only Phil when he's being nice – hasn't said another word about Kuki or any other former members of sector V since Abby agreed to keep her distance. He seems quietly pleased.

Henrietta holds Abby's hand beneath the table, occasionally digging a sharp knuckle into her thigh when she senses Abby is getting lost in her thoughts. Abby doesn't know what she'd do without her.

Kuki is crossing the cafeteria. Their eyes meet.

Abby looks away. Kuki needs to live her own life.

Her gaze slides to the right, where a boy in an aviator cap sits with the wood shop kids, gesturing wildly with his lanky arms to some unheard joke.

They all do.

She has to let them go.

(ruler)

She doesn't expect one of them to latch on to _her._

Kuki's grip is tight on her arm, her eyes manic as they dart between Abby's eyes.

"Are we friends?" she squeaks. "I mean _were _we? When we were kids? You, me, and Wally?"

A cold chill runs down Abby's spine. _What? _She tenses, poised to flee, automatically scanning for exit routes.

"Uh, Kuki, I'm kinda hungry, can you—"

"Answer me, Abby, please! I found this photo, and-"

"What photo?" Abby interrupts her quickly, her attention snapping forward. When an operative is decommissioned, it's not just their memories that are removed. A squad combs through their life and removes anything and everything from their life in KND. How could they have missed something as obvious as a _photo_?

Her eyes meet Kuki's for the first time in days.

And they're _Kuki's._ Wide and emotional, alive, finally. But ringed red with panic and confusion.

"At Wally's house, on the wall, it...all of us and these kids I don't know but I do...or I did. Please, Abby, I feel like I'm going crazy! I _remember _things I…things that never happened! I keep getting these awful headaches like something's sawing my brain in half and I know you know _something_! Please, tell me! Tell me what the treehouse means!"

Abby's breathing speeds up. Her mind goes white. It's not possible. It's not. There's _nothing there to remember._

Something behind Kuki's shoulder catches Abby's eye. She didn't realize they'd been drawing a crowd.

Infinity is standing there, swathed in black, his sunglasses reflecting the scene. He doesn't have to say a word. He rarely does. Abby can feel the judgment and the threat rolling off of him in waves.

_Stay away from her, or you're visiting the chamber for real this time._

"It's okay if you don't want to hang out anymore, just tell me I'm not crazy!"

Abby slowly rolls her gaze back to Kuki, her heart twisting in agony. But Abby has always been good at keeping her cool.

"You're crazy."

She can almost see Kuki's heart breaking, but she can't afford to care. She shakes off Kuki's slack grip, muttering "Let me go." Kuki lets her.

Abby walks away, but she allows herself one glare at Phil, whose blank shades glint with "I told you so".

* * *

Henrietta is a terrible person to vent to – she makes too many unnecessary comments – but she makes an effort for Abby. Usually.

"Wow," Henrietta deadpans when Abby finishes relating the story to her. "We should call _Lifetime_, I've got a great idea for a movie."

Abby rolls her eyes, burying her face into Henrietta's pillow. The thick fabric is cool against her face, the smell of her girlfriend's shampoo calming her slightly.

Every color in Henrietta's room could be attributed to a fruit. The walls are cantaloupe, the bedspread is apricot, the pillows and curtains are pale watermelon lace; it's an explosion of various pinks, reds, and oranges that shouldn't work together but somehow do. And because Henrietta is so frigging perfect, it's meticulously clean.

Abby loves it, mostly because it's everything she would never catch herself dead in. Her own room is haphazardly thrown together with every thought to comfort and practicality and none towards aesthetics.

But she's distracting herself.

"Hey, come on," Henrietta urges, flopping down on top of her. "Talk to me."

Lifting her face from the pillow, Abby huffs a breath and wriggles onto her back, Henrietta settling half on top of her with her arms crossed over Abby's chest. One leg is hiked up, pale beneath her deep red pajama shorts. The first thing Henrietta always does when she gets home is change out of her pants. High-waisted jeans, as great as they look, aren't comfortable for cuddling. Her braids are down so her blonde hair falls in sharp waves down her back and shoulders, glasses perched on the tip of her nose like the best of sexy librarian fantasies.

"So she does remember?" Henrietta goes on, refusing to let Abby get sidetracked.

Abby lets a breath out, flapping her lips frustratedly. "She remembers _something_. I don't know." The look on Kuki's face when she'd called her crazy still hurts.

"Well, that's great!"

Abby sighs, sitting up. Henrietta slides off her reluctantly, settling against the headboard with their sides pressed together.

"No, hon, it's not. Even if she does remember…something, I still can't go near her without Infinity flipping a shit. So she's all alone with her head messed up and…I think I broke her."

"It's not your fault, it-"

"Of course it is. I was selfish and I got too close."

"But what about that other kid? The one with the Napoleon Complex."

"What about him? You think he's in the same way?"

"Maybe. Or maybe he's the one that freaked out Kuki's head."

Abby rubs a hand down her face. She needs to _sleep._ "It doesn't really matter. But I don't know what to do."

"Be a rebel," Henrietta suggests, squeezing her hand. "As I recall, things always tend to go your way regardless of head-honcho dicks in sunglasses. Whomever they may be."

Abby huffs a laugh. "Because I had a _plan._ Things are different now."

"But she _remembers, _Abigail! Just go clandestine and-"

"The thing is, that _never _happens! No one remembers; like you said, there's nothing there to remember!"

"Okay, one: you've got to stop interrupting me. Two: apparently there _is._"

Abby stares at her, desperate to understand. Henrietta has her 'epiphany face' going on. "How?"

"In my AP Bio class," – Abby rolls her eyes at the 'AP' distinction; Henrietta never lets her forget that she's dating a prodigy – "we've been learning about disease prevention and vaccinations, which work with your body's defenses by introducing the immune system to a nonviral strain early-on so it can prepare to fight the same viruses in the future, only viruses tend to evolve to get around them which is why it's important to get vaccinated every ten years or however long that particular vaccine requires for—"

"Heinie! Point! Make it!"

"You know how you tell me stories about all that stuff that totally didn't happen?"

"Yeah?"

"Well…if I recall correctly, in one of those stories all the main characters got their memories wiped and then un-wiped, and assuming the body reacts to the machine's neurological impulses in the same way as it would a virus and the machine hasn't been changed at all since that event, then…"

A slow realization dawns over Abby's face. "She's fighting back. They all are."

Henrietta sits back smugly, twirling a strand of hair between her slender fingers. "It appears so. I knew your friends were stubborn, but—"

Abby grabs her face and shuts her up with a hard kiss on the mouth. "You're a genius, babe!"

Henrietta grins, looking a little flustered between Abby's palms. "You got a plan?"

"I got a plan."

* * *

So it came to this: dressing in a black hoodie and sweatpants, sneaking into a window in the middle of the night, and nearly getting her butt kicked. But even when she was in practice, Kuki could never beat her at hand-to-hand, and she ends up on the floor with Abby's foot on her chest.

"Damn, you still got it," Abby praises, pleased.

Recognition flashes in Kuki's moonlit face, and Abby pulls back her hood, thinking that Henrietta would love the dramatic effect.

"Kuki. We need to talk."

* * *

**AN: **Ok I officially love Abby and Heinie. Sorry you guys waited so long for a chapter that did literally nothing to forward the plot, lol. Don't let anyone tell you that your junior year of college will be a breeze. Not that anyone would tell you that. Because it's not. Anyway. This story is fourth or fifth on my list of priorities right now, but I will do my utmost to continue it at a steadier rate. Thanks for your patience!

Don't think too hard about the science here. I didn't.

BTW: I know there's been a serious lack of 3x4 recently, but it will be getting heavier, I promise. It's just not the main priority of the story right now. :)

Please leave me an aromatic review!

Tickle that Toast.


	9. Kids Say The Darndest Things

**AN: **An update! It's a miracle! Lots of meat in this one. I guess. The plot is being furthered. It is short, though, but I like the place it ends at and I wanted to get something out this week. Enjoy!

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 9: Kids Say The Darndest Things**

* * *

_"Kuki. We need to talk."_

The dark figure – _Abby, it's Abby, why is it Abby_ – leans down to help her up, assistance that Kuki takes before she remembers she's angry at her. It's okay to call Kuki crazy in public, but they're friends when no one is around?

Strangely, the first thing that ends up coming out of Kuki's mouth is "I have a phone, you know. We could avoid the whole 'coming through the window' thing by just calling my phone."

Abby just shakes her head, beginning to wander around Kuki's room like she owns it, pressing her ear to the door and peering into the corners. "Not secure. Can't have anyone listening in. Not at school, either."

Kuki crosses her arms. "Why—" she pauses, noticing how Abby all but disappears when she steps out of the moonlight pouring in through the window. "What are you wearing? You look like a cat burglar."

"Hey. Fooled you, didn't it?" Teeth flash in the darkness, and Kuki shivers. Suddenly she thinks that Abby may in fact be very, very dangerous. She takes a step back, toward the lacrosse stick sitting abandoned on the floor.

"What are you doing here, Abby?"

Abby's expression sobers, and, apparently abandoning her expert perusal of dusty corners filled with old Beanie Babies, moves forward. She centers herself in Kuki's line of sight, purposefully, Kuki thinks, to allow her a greater sense of security against a perceived threat. It feels manipulative.

"Like Abby said. We gotta talk," Abby replies coolly.

Kuki crosses her arms. "I thought we already talked. Seemed pretty definitive to me."

Abby sighs heavily, wiping a hand down her face. "I'm sorry. It wasn't safe there."

"At _school_?" Kuki replies incredulously.

"Yes."

Phil's cold smile flashes in Kuki's memory. The shadows in her room seem to deepen, pulling themselves from beneath the furniture and out of the crack in the closet door to stretch toward her with grasping, greedy hands.

Kuki sits down on the edge of her bed and pulls up her feet. "So you broke into my house," she replies flatly.

Suddenly awkward in a way she never is, Abby tilts her head from side to side in a 'whoops, yeah, kinda' gesture. "Not with the intention of kicking your butt to the floor, I promise."

Kuki fights not to argue with that. Instead she draws herself up and crosses her arms, as if she could physically protect herself from whatever Abby was going to say. "Then talk. I have to get up for school in four hours."

Abby has the nerve to look hurt. "Look, Kuki, I'm sorry."

"Save it," Kuki snaps back. There's something satisfying about how it makes Abby flinch, about sitting comfortably on the moral high ground. "Just tell me what you came here to tell me."

Abby takes a long, deep breath. She looks almost afraid. "Okay, Kuki, here's the deal. It's gonna sound crazy, so I'm just gonna spit it out."

Kuki dryly raises her eyebrows.

Abby takes another breath and seems to be steeling herself for a blow. Then she speaks. "You used to be part of an elite organization of militant under-thirteens called the Kids Next Door. We were trained in weapons and close combat to fight adult tyranny. When we were kids, you were in my sector, and so was Wally, Nigel Uno, and Hoagie Gilligan. Five years ago you were decommissioned when you turned thirteen, and all your memories of KND were erased to make sure no adults ever have knowledge of our existence. That's why that photo was there. That's why you feel like you know me and Wally, that's why you're getting headaches all the time and that's what's up with that treehouse. We used to live there."

Silence.

Rushing fluids.

_Pain._

This time, the first thing that ends up coming out of Kuki's mouth is her dinner.

* * *

"Sorry," Kuki says again. Her head still feels like it's being split open, but the pain echoes into an empty belly now. The vomit on the floor is covered shrewdly with a dirty towel.

"Girl, it's your floor. I ain't cleanin' that up," Abby responds, hovering in a comfortable balance between concerned and amused.

Kuki sips from a glass of water Abby filled in the bathroom. The acrid taste in her mouth is just background to the turmoil going on in her head.

"So-"

"Yeah. It's all true."

Kuki falls silent. She takes sips of water and stares at the weird things laid out on the floor between them.

_S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R.: Solid Pine Loaded Artillery Nicely Kicks Enemy Rear._

It's funny. Clearly someone in this Kids Next Door thing has a sense of humor.

Kuki only hopes it doesn't extend to pranking her. It doesn't feel like a prank. It feels like she was waiting for it. Has maybe been waiting for it forever.

"Numbuh Three."

Kuki jerks. "What?"

Abby's expression is tentative, hopeful, her fingers laced in her lap. "Numbuh Three. That was your codename."

"Number Three, huh?"

"Numbuh."

"What?"

"Don't ask me." Abby smiles a bit, shrugging as her fingers trace over the ragtag communicator on the floor. Its numbers are drawn in faded marker. The buttons are a mixture of bottle caps and pencil erasers. It's strangely endearing.

"I was Numbuh Five. Wally was Numbuh Four, Nigel was our leader, Numbuh One, and Hoagie was Numbuh Two."

"See, I know Nigel, but I've never met Hoagie. Does he go to our school?"

"Yeah, you know that ridiculously tall guy in the pilot cap?"

Kuki blinks. She has. In fact, she's seen him everywhere. He's in her French class. "Yeah… Do…do any of them know? All of this? Are they like you?"

Abby shakes her head. "So far it's just you. I don't know if the others… Henrietta has this theory that since we were all decommissioned once before-"

"We were?"

"You don't remember?"

"I don't think so…"

Abby smiles. "Okay, so we were all just hangin' around in the treehouse while Numbuh One was out fishing with his dad-"

"Which one's he again?"

They talk well into the night. Well, further into the morning. Abby spins story after story, most of which are completely preposterous, but Kuki finds that she's willing to suspend her disbelief if only for a moment, just to get that warm glowing feeling when the pseudo-memories slide gently into place.

She doesn't _remember, _exactly. She doesn't remember the episodes that Abby wasn't there for, or how it felt when one of her hamsters died, or what her room looked like. But it feels right. It feels true. At least she _wants _it to be.

And by the time Kuki's alarm goes off and Abby has to leave, it's almost like it _is_, like she's eleven and she never forgot anything and they're going on an exciting mission.

_Battle stations!_

"Are you gonna talk to the others, too?" Kuki asks as Abby gently lifts up the window, cautious now that daylight is beginning to shine in.

"I guess so," Abby replies with a funny little smile. "If Henrietta's right, then…"

Kuki nods. "But we can't talk at school, huh?"

Abby sighs. "No. But I'll be in touch." She waves the old-fashioned communicator that matches the one in Kuki's hand.

Kuki finds herself smiling, just a little. "I'm still not sure I believe you."

Abby smiles back, one leg out the window. The sun bathes her face in a bright golden light, highlighting every feature in sharp, clear contrast.

"You will."

* * *

_"I have grown sick of shadows." _– Oscar Wilde, _The Picture of Dorian Gray_

* * *

**AN: **Plot, hurrah! More 3x4 coming soon, I promise. The next chapter? No idea. The only reason this is finished is because the due date for one of my papers was pushed back. :) P.S. You guys should totally read _The Picture of Dorian Gray_, it's awesome. Kuki is very Sibyl Vane as far as values go, minus the Victorian overacting.

Leave me a mouth-watering review!

Tickle That Toast


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